


Refuge

by Zykal



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood and Violence, Eventual Anders/Fenris, M/M, Post-Kirkwall, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6211972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zykal/pseuds/Zykal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris finds himself in a bad situation and needs to hide for a while. Anders finds himself in a bad situation and needs to hide for a while. They accidentally find the same hiding place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First long fic I'm going to be writing here's to hoping it doesn't go terribly.  
> I intend to update every Sunday, and so far the next two chapters are already written so I should be able to stay on top of it

Sixty three. That was how many times he had set up to attack slavers on his own. Sixty two was the number of current successes. Sixty three was in front of him. Some attacks had been more thorough, clearing out entire hideouts. Some of them were small, like this one. Catching slavers as they transported people into another terrible environment. The number of people he would be saving was hard to predict, but that didn't matter to him. What mattered was that slavers died, and people were freed.

He may have had some doubts around that before, but that wasn't the point right now.

Coming up on him was a horse-drawn cart, the cart containing a large, wooden box, and slavers he had been tracking. 

Both were humans, and both humans were taller than he was. They were both dressed in steel armor, no helmets on either, however. One had a deep scar on their right cheek, the other's face had no noticeable disfigurement. Both brunettes, and the one with the scar was a few inches taller than the other. They chatted amongst one another, their voices low in volume and pitch.

He waited a few more moments, letting the horses get just past him.

He darted out, a flash of white and black and steel, bringing his blade down hard into the skull of the short, unmarred slaver. The reaction from the slavers was slow-- if the unmarred one was even aware he was being attacked before he was dead, he would never know. He landed on top of the slaver, toes curling around the leg of the corpse to keep himself on the cart. Shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, he quickly pulled his sword out of the corpse, a fluid movement that would have put him into a ready stance to continue his assault. Scar reacted, however.

There was a sharp impact to his abdomen as he was kicked off the cart, landing flat onto his back with the wind knocked out of him. As he got to his feet, he heard a loud _CRACK!_ Coming from the cart. He glanced at it, and saw a panel of the box flying to the ground. A glance back at Scar, almost too late, and he drew his sword up, bracing one hand further down the blade to match the slaver's sword. He pushed, knocking Scar off balance just long enough to strike hard at Scar's chest plate, leaving a dent. Cheap steel, then.

From his right came a lot of heavy _thud_ s. Four or five times of _thudthud THUD_ , coming out in a disorganized mess. He looked over at that end of the cart again, counting four heads before two rushed at him.

From what he could see, all of them were armored about the same as the first two, but that didn't change the fact that the fight had gone from one on one to one on five. He cursed under his breath and turned to face the new assailants. He sidestepped the attack, landing a blow across the backs of the two. His movements were fluid, almost seeming choreographed, as if this was a dance he had performed many times. And in a way, he had. The other dancers always seemed to change, however.

He tried to count again, to be certain of the number, but couldn't pause long enough through the fighting. The cart wasn't taller than him, but with the wooden crate on it he couldn't see the opposite side of the cart. This was not going in any way how he had planned, and he was starting to doubt he would get away with minimal injuries. He parried another attack from Scar, thrusting his blade into the dent in the armor, piercing it, and driving it further in. Before he could withdraw it, he heard others behind him, and dodged away, leaving his sword for the moment.

The slavers attacked mostly in pairs, and he was doing his best to not get surrounded by them, moving to keep at least one side open at all times. Now, however, he let them surround him. As much as he preferred cutting down enemies, with his sword deep in Scar's chest, he didn't have much other option at the moment. As the next duo went in to attack, he tapped on the energy in his skin, seeing the glow in his peripheral vision. He dodged behind one of the two, quickly shoving his fist into the slaver's back and pulling it out with their heart in his hand.

There was a tense moment that followed and he took full advantage of it, darting toward the nearest slaver and, despite the startled jump and stumble back the slaver attempted, he did the same, letting the momentum of the slaver's trip rip their own heart out of their chest. Two were left, and they regained their posture as the newest corpse hit the ground.

He did his best to dodge attacks, blocking with his gauntlets when dodging wasn't possible. He felt the sting of cuts into his skin, but all were only minor injuries, especially compared to what he had just done to their fellow slavers. A charge from one left them open, and he ducked down, sweeping their feet out from under them before plunging his hand into their chest. The last one tried to take advantage of his back being turned, and he rolled out of the way, pushed them down on top of their newly-fallen comrade and collected his heart as well.

He glanced around, and after seeing no further movement, he went to withdraw his sword from Scar's chest. He placed one foot just beneath it and yanked his sword out, the scrape of metal on metal suddenly being cut off with a sickening _CRACK!_ His head shot up, eyes following the movement. Another slaver was crouched beside him. The pain in his arm registered and he cried out, quickly shifting his sword onto his back with the good arm.

Apparently, Fenris had miscounted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're squeamish or are not comfortable reading about the detailed account of Fenris' injury, skip paragraphs 6 and 7. Six starts with the line "Fenris worked his way out of his armor" in case you don't think you can keep count.

_Thud thud thud thud thud_. The rhythmic pounding of his feet on the ground. _Thud thud thud thud thud_. The pounding of his heart, keeping time with his steps. _Shhk shhk shhk_. His sword over his armor. Sounds that were too loud in his head, and Fenris felt they were blocking out the sounds of the slaver he was running from. He tried to concentrate only on the sounds. Of his feet, of his heart, of anything he could pick up around him. There was the skittering of small animals over the twigs and leaves covering the ground, the rustle of the trees in the wind, and… nothing else. Fenris found himself thinking the rodents and wind were aiming to hide the sound of the slaver behind him, and he shoved the frantic thought away, knowing it was only panic leading him there.

It had been a trap. Fenris had been hunting slavers for long enough, he should have known trailing them for too long would draw attention. He had taken out more slavers than he could count, and worked on draining their supply. He should have known they'd try to take him out, even if it meant cooperating with one another for an extended period of time.

Fenris had been running for a while now with his left hand clutching his right to keep it still, and he wasn't quite sure how long a while was at this point. If he stopped, he wanted to stop where he was hidden. As soon as his feet stopped his mind would find the pain to focus on again, and running after that would be much more difficult.

Hiding places weren't terribly scarce here. The amount of trees and brush alone was enough to hide in-- something he had taken advantage of earlier-- but the ground was far from even, and small cliffs and caves were scattered about. Fenris had peeked into a few, but most were shallow, or too close to where he had started running from. His feet had begun to feel sore, and his sword felt heavy on his back, and he begun to check out caves more seriously. The first couple were much too shallow, they could barely be called caves. The fatigue set in, forcing him to slow at the next cave he saw. He ducked inside, relieved to find it deeper than the others had been.

The light from outside didn't reach all the way into the cave, there were pockets that could be tunnels or just small indents that were pitch black. The cave smelled damp with the faintest hint of elfroot. A scent he was familiar enough with to recognize it, even though the damp smell far outweighed it. A scent that instinctively brought a scowl to his face. Fenris felt his way along the cave, his left hand trailing along the wall, his right arm reminding him of the pain he was in now that he had removed its stabilizing factor. The cave was deep, yes, but no tunnels seemed to lead in or out, there was just the one entrance. A good thing for defending it, a bad thing if you need to escape. Fenris's arm was screaming at him, and he tucked himself into one of the back pockets in the cave, placing his sword onto the ground before plopping down onto the cool stone.

Fenris worked his way out of his armor, pain shooting up his arm with every wrong movement. He looked down at his arm and could see the bend in his forearm where it had snapped. His fingers lightly, painfully, traced the underside of his arm, feeling tacky wetness where the blood hadn't fully dried yet, and a bit further he felt the stab of something sharp into his finger. He let out a long groan and let his head fall back onto the stone behind him. His left hand made its way to his sword, and he pulled the blade out of the sheath he had made some time after leaving Kirkwall. With no real home to go to, he had found himself feeling burdened by his sword being only loosely strapped to his back. He set aside time to fashion his own sheath instead of buying one and being spotted in a town. The sheath was fashioned out of leather, and he picked it up and put the strap of it into his mouth.

Fenris took a deep breath, positioning his left hand lightly so his palm was centered over the exposed bone. He closed his eyes, held the leather between his teeth, and set the bone in his arm. His teeth clamped down hard as he cried out, and tears stung his eyes. Fenris felt it slide into place and forced himself to bite down harder rather than scream. He kept pressure on it for a few moments, but the pain was too great, and he released it, panting. Fenris gave himself a few moments to recover before pulling the sheath out of his mouth and working his left arm out of his undershirt to tie it around his right arm in a makeshift sling. He needed a splint, but for now, this would do.

It was over a year since their band had left Kirkwall in shambles. The city had a way of ending up on fire, or full of poison, or generally in some kind of crisis, but nothing compared to what the mage had done to the city. More of the chantry than the city, really, but there was little difference in Kirkwall. In the past year news that found its way to Fenris was mostly of the aftermath, of circle mages rioting all across Thedas. Every new circle that rioted wore away at his stance on mages. At first he was willing to believe the mage was responsible for the circles that worked at freeing themselves. Even though it seemed unlikely he would show himself that soon after Kirkwall. Reports came from different areas of Thedas, but in the beginning they were slow to start, and he could believe it was the mage. But as news spread of Kirkwall, the effect was a ripple, spreading outwards from Kirkwall, and eventually he had to face the truth that the mage wasn't responsible for the mages rising up against the circles. They fell too far apart for him to be directly responsible. He wasn't sure if the mage had participated in any of the riots anymore. As they slowly toppled he believed it was a need for power that drove them on, but as time went on no grabs for power were made. The mages hid after escaping, and their organization was slow. They grouped together and hid out in the wilderness near the circle they had escaped from, attacking anyone who got too close. Fenris had run into mages on more than one occasion, but not all attacked him on sight. They warned him before he got too close what would happen. If he assured them he was not a templar and was just passing through they left him well enough alone, sometimes asking him for food or supplies, but nothing else. Fenris hadn't expected that. The reaction from templars was not what he had been expecting either. 

Rebuilding the circle towers should have been a priority, followed by the templars gathering to round up apostates. But they went rogue instead, making small bands that went out to murder all mages they came upon. Fenris had a few run-ins with these bands, and they had attacked him on sight. Sure, he was an elf, but that didn't mean he _had_ to be a mage. And he carried a rather large sword-- he somehow doubted that was easily missed. He'd like to think that being cut down with it should have proved enough he wasn't a mage, but it hadn't been. Fenris had gone out of his way to check up on what had been the circles to find the buildings mostly abandoned, occasionally inhabited by bands of templars that were no better than bandits.

The first time Fenris had ended up releasing mages from slavers he had instructed them to go to the nearest circle. That circle had fallen soon after. Fenris had run into some of the mages he had instructed to head to the circle and while many of them were children, it was one of the adults that approached him. They asked him a question that had made his insides burn.

“Were you really attempting to save us? Or just get rid of us?” One had accused. Fenris hadn't responded, but the confusion on his face must have been clear. “Two of us refused to leave even as the building burned around us. The templars did something to them when we arrived and they became servants of the templars and the rest of us mages! I would have rather continued my existence as a slave than be sent there,” they had yelled before spitting at his feet and leading the group away from him. He had stood in silence, watching the mages depart. He stopped sending mages to the circles after that. He had told himself that it was because the circles were falling apart then, but now he knew it was because he may have been wrong about mages before. Fenris refused to change his stance completely, once this war (if it could be called a war) was settled he would re-evaluate. Mages still had time to grab at power. They'd realize that freedom wasn't all they desired.

That thought made Fenris scowl. When he had gained his freedom, it didn't seem like all he wanted but he still felt hunted, he hadn't really felt _free_ for most of his time in Kirkwall. Things may be different for the mages. The way the argument in his head progressed reminded him of the mage again. They had left off on terrible terms, but then again they hadn't started on terribly good terms.

The pain in Fenris's arm was steadily getting harder to ignore, and with no one having followed him into the cave so far, he closed his eyes and dozed off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to upload this chapter earlier but it still counts as Sunday  
> Sorry about that ;;

“Halt!” yelled a muffled voice behind him, and before he was aware of it, he had spun on his heel and froze the templar where he stood, only barely noticing the glow dimming in his peripheral vision. He moved toward the body and pushed it over, it hit the ground with a _crack_. He grabbed beneath the templar's arms and started pulling him off of the path, the exertion more than he had been prepared for that day. His back ached and his legs were cramped, but he pulled the body behind a small thicket of trees. With a groan he pulled the body up, perching it against the trees so it was hidden from the path.

“We can't just keep killing them,” there was an edge to his voice he hadn't intended, followed by a distinct guilty feeling in the back of his mind, and he sighed. “Just… keep it in mind, ok?” Neither of them was happy with the current arrangement, but there was nothing either of them could do about it now.

They had spent the past several years running mages out of circles, but up until a year ago it had been one or two at a time, sneaking them out of circles. Now, with circles falling all across Thedas, their hands were more than full, leaving them with not enough time to properly organize safe havens, and definitely not enough time to train mages to help him escort others. They had been running nearly nonstop, defending mages with no hesitation, killing templar after templar that threatened mages who didn't know nearly enough to keep themselves safe. Unfortunately the templars seemed to be getting smarter. They hadn't been attacked in some time, but with the way his face, even with the scraggy beard he had managed to grow, was well known by now as an abomination meant people didn't want to face you directly. When you're not only an abomination but branded the sole face of the mage uprising, well, most of them didn't even want to look at you. There was an intense discomfort in the back of his mind every time the word abomination crossed his thoughts, but for now he disregarded it.

They had been using similar safe places, towns, and villages to leave mages at. They tried to circulate them, find new towns to leave the mages at, but the time needed to scope out towns was more than he had to dedicate, especially with more and more circles disbanding. And all along they had left trails of templar corpses, leading to their safe towns. They had returned to one to find it under templar control and he had slipped, waking up only to find the town partially destroyed and full of corpses. They had spend the rest of the day searching through the bodies, and were relieved to find only templar corpses. Still, they both felt guilty for letting something like this happen. They had escorted the mages of that town out and to a new area, but that fiasco had proved they needed a break.

They had spent the past week walking further and further into areas they had never traversed. The going was slow, as the first two days were spent in fear of being ambushed and he had taken an erratic path, doubling back at some points just to be sure they weren't being followed. They still glanced over their shoulder, paused to duck off of paths for a while, keeping silent just to be sure they hadn't been followed. If they had been, whoever was following them was incredibly good at it. 

So far it was two days of walking for every day of rest, but his body was starting to feel worn. They had stopped arguing since they left Kirkwall, and he had been left in control of his body to rest when he saw fit. They wouldn't make much progress today, but enough ground had been covered. No matter how far he wandered, however, until mages were seen as people he was in danger and couldn't take chances. He ducked into the first cave he saw. It appeared to be deep, and he lit a small flame in his hand to get a better look. The flame illuminated his features that were hidden in the new robes he had picked up. Somehow he had managed to get thinner over the past year and the robes billowed around him. His eyes seemed to glow in the light of the flame, and the way his face had sunken made him look more like a walking skeleton than a human. The robes were nondescript, plain, brown robes. He knew why he needed these robes, but he desperately missed his feathers. 

The cave had two deep areas in the back of the cave that may have been tunnels, and he stepped further in to get a better look. The one on his right wasn't a tunnel, just a strange way the cave had been carved out. Before he could get a good look at the one on the left he noticed something more pressing-- a body curled up in it. A very, _very_ familiar body, undressed to a degree he had never seen before, but had imagined on more than one occasion.

They jerked suddenly, sitting upright and turning to face him. Nothing in their face gave him any indication of pain, but the bloody shirt wrapped around their arm told him enough.

“Anders?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop going out of town on Saturdays. Considering changing what day I update on so these get up earlier

Anders stood frozen for a moment, the flame in his hand flickering out as his concentration broke. Pitched into the dark, both thought they had only imagined one another. Anders quickly conjured up another flame, it was just the hunger, he was imagining things, Fenris couldn't actually be--

Here. Fenris was here. A prickle in his mind and Anders acknowledged Justice's dislike for the man, netting him a sharper jab. Anders wanted to ask them what the problem was, but didn't want to startle Fenris. Fenris wasn't in much shape to be running with that injury. Anders stepped forward toward him. Injury. Fenris was badly injured and he had just been standing here staring at him. A soothing feeling. Justice was trying to get him to pay attention, that was all. Fenris didn't move, just kept his eyes on Anders as they had been since before the flame went out. Anders stopped himself after a few steps.

“Ah. Er. Hi. Can I…?” he asked, gesturing to Fenris' arm.

“No,” Fenris said. A pause.

“I… what? Why?”

“What do you want?” Fenris asked in return, his voice sharp. He hoped he still sounded threatening. He wasn't sure if he had the energy to fight if he needed to.

“What do I want? What are you talking about? I'm offering to help you!” Anders' voice had started to climb in volume and he was only faintly aware of all the noise he was making.

“Begone demon, I have no desire to deal with you,” Fenris spat.

“Demon?! I stumble upon you and offer to heal you insist on sticking to your pride and previous grievances to refuse my aid?!” Anders said, stepping forward toward Fenris. He felt the crackle in his skin and did his best to force it down. Justice was riled up underneath him. Fenris had turned his gaze away and said nothing.

“Not even going to try to fight me over it?!” Anders yelled. Something about the lack of argument was almost more infuriating than the way Fenris insisted he was wrong all the time. “Name calling and silent treatment, what are we, children?!”

His skin crackled and their shifts had become so effortless he wasn't aware of it until he had fallen back, feeling his sensations dulled. The flame was squashed in his hand, but the light from his skin easily replaced it.

“You refuse our aid and call us demon as you lie bleeding on the floor. Even if you will not die from the injury you are suffering needlessly. Why?” Justice demanded. Fenris turned to face Justice, squinting into the blue glow. Fenris gave a short rock forward, bracing his left arm on the ground to heft himself to his feet. He carefully moved toward the glowing figure, keeping his steps even. He didn't want his weakness known.

“I did not call you demon before. What did I call you?” Fenris asked, his expression neutral.

“That does not answer the question,” Justice said.

“Nor does that.”

“I will not say it.”

“Then you will not aid me.”

The glow dissipated. 

“Abomination,” Anders said.

“My apologies. Your timing was… too convenient. I will accept your aid, and I am grateful for it,” Fenris said. Anders conjured the flame again.

“Sit,” he said. Fenris obliged without a word.

“I should have realized sooner what was off. I'm sorry I yelled at you,” Anders said. He looked over the sling currently on Fenris, working out how to minimize pain for him.

“It is understandable. We were not friends, which is further why I thought your jumping to aid me was unrealistic. We no longer have Hawke mediating for us, and you need not care for me without Hawke insisting you do so,” Fenris shrugged and winced at the pain in his arm, earning him a glare from Anders.

“It will probably be easier for you to just take your shirt completely off so I can see what you did to your arm. The blood's dried to it and it'll be easier to peel off if you--” Anders said.

“No need to explain, mage,” Fenris cut in, carefully pulling the shirt over his head and down his arm, groaning as the dried blood ripped from his skin.

“You called me Anders when I walked in,” Anders noted. That was part of what had made it seem like a hallucination. Fenris never called him by his name.

“Slip of the tongue,” Fenris grumbled.

“Did you set this?” Anders asked.

“Yes. I am not quite sure how long ago, but I made an attempt at it once I first stowed away in here.”

“Should make this easier then. Hopefully less uncomfortable too,” Anders said. He put out the flame in his hand and gently took Fenris' arm, gently working the shirt off of his bad arm. His hands brushed the break and he felt the way Fenris shrunk away in pain, Anders mumbled an apology. He placed one hand above the break to be able to find it in the dark and began to work on healing it.

Silence fell between the two as Anders worked. The dark helped conceal the grimace on Fenris' face, a fact he was rather grateful for. 

“I can't heal this completely, not now at least,” Anders said.

“The pain has reduced. For that, I thank you,” Fenris said, pulling his shirt back on again.

“I'm not so sure you're not the demon here. You're… not what I remembered,” Anders said. Fenris chuckled and Anders wasn't sure he hadn't heard a better sound before. Its not that he hadn't heard Fenris laugh before, but never at anything _he_ said. “I accuse you of being a demon and you laugh? Not making a promising case for yourself.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“That doesn't answer whether or not you're a demon.”

“I wasn't aware that was a question,” Fenris said. Anders sighed.

“Picky. Are you a demon?”

“Does it matter how I answer? A demon will tell you whatever you wish to hear.”

“You have yet to accuse me of anything and you can't say you're clueless as to what's happened with circles around Thedas. Not a comment about how I'm an abomination that caused more harm than good. No asking me if I've killed any innocent people lately. Nothing that I've come to expect from you,” Anders pushed away the discomfort from Justice. Scolding for the word abomination, an apology when innocent people dying mentioned. “In fact, the only person here who has said the word abomination is me!”

“I haven't pressed you on the past, and yet you press me on it. You look like a dead man walking and I feel no need to speak ill of the dead, at least, not in your case,” Fenris jabbed. His voice was lower than Anders', and it took him speaking for Anders to realize how loud he had been.

“How charming of you,” Anders retorted. Back into a back and forth of years past, but for once there was no sting from Fenris' words.

“You have a surprising amount of energy for a dead man,” Fenris teased.

“So you assume. I do need rest. If I sleep here will I wake up?” Anders asked.

“I'm not sure. I can promise my hand will have no factor in it, but if you die in your sleep from the fact you have not eaten in what appears to be weeks I would not be surprised.”

“Fair enough,” Anders said. He would have never expected to be comfortable in Fenris's presence, and he wasn't completely comfortable, but it was more than he ever expected. He figured that now Fenris would have no hesitations in killing him on sight. A thank you for healing him, maybe. But even then, Fenris had made no threat in any way toward him. Anders moved to another inlet where he would be sheltered from sight if someone was just to glance inside. He was asleep soon after sitting down.

Fenris listened to Anders shuffle across the cave. He tested his arm. Attempting to clench his fist was still extremely painful, as was moving his arm in any major way. Minor movements were acceptable, and he figured he could walk around without too much issue. A fact he was incredibly grateful for as the hunger had settled in, and while he could ignore it, food would help while he was weakened. The faint blue glow in the room startled him out of his thoughts.

“You are acting strangely,” Justice said.

“You are loud. Careful of your volume. I do not understand how I am acting strange,” Fenris said.

“Do not tell me what to do!”

“Our voices echo out of this cave. I only worry for our safety as I cannot defend us well,”

“Hm. A valid point. My apologies then. Anders says I have never been good at controlling my volume. He has corrected me on it more than once. You have no history of being kind,” Justice said, his voice volume wavering as he attempted to control it.

“I have a history of being kind. I aim to protect slaves, free them. But to you, I suppose I have never been kind, and that is what you mean?”

“Yes. Your sudden change of heart implies deception.”

“It is not sudden. It has been over a year since we last saw one another.”

“It is sudden to me.”

“I have no intention of harming Anders or you. Your glow might give us away to passersby, but I think it is preferred to have you prepared in case we are found either way,” Fenris said. There was a small pause. “I was not aware that you could control Anders' body while he slept, but I suppose I should not be surprised by it.”

“I have on many occasions.”

“I am going to leave for a bit, but I will return--”

“No.”

“--With food,” Fenris insisted, and he started to strap on his armor. He left his right gauntlet off, knowing his arm was most likely swollen and being able to get the gauntlet on would be near impossible, as well as very painful.

“No. You will get templars.”

“I am not aware of where templars are, and if I approach them they will kill me.”

“I do not believe that.”

“Then I cannot convince you of it, but I will still be leaving. When I return, if I bring templars you have my permission to kill me.”

Fenris stood up, and took Justice's silence as a begrudging tolerance of him leaving. Something, at least. His body was stiff and sore from sleeping on a cave floor, but at least his arm did not protest as much as he moved. Hunting was a possibility, but would be difficult. If he hunted he would need to gather dry firewood as well. A fire would be rather nice, but he supposed it should wait until at least tomorrow morning, so he could be certain Anders hadn't been followed. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to rely on the mage for protection as well. He could probably take one attacker on his own, but more than that and he would need to run.

For now, Fenris settled on searching for edible plants. He had become familiar with determining edible from poisonous, starting from his first escape from Danarius, strengthened in his second, and Hawke had the ability to put them into situations where it had come in handy. Searching for plants in the dark was difficult, but he felt safer in it. He only needed to listen for danger, and he could spot camps by the light their campfires gave off well before he was near enough to be seen. Near the cave was dark, and he moved further from it before he started to gather food. If near the cave was picked clean it could give clues to their position, and he did not wish to take that risk. No campfires near the cave. Good.

Fenris had nothing to carry the food back in. Traveling light was safest, and he was used to getting by with what he could find. He gathered what he could for now, which was minimal, but it was better than nothing. He ate the first few he found, the less he had to carry back, the better. Just before he turned back he heard voices, and the soft glow of flames started. He ducked behind a tree, hiding from the light as best he could. The voices were soft, but not incomprehensible. They spoke in the common tongue, three people he could discern. One Orlesian. Fenris waited a while, keeping his breath soft, focusing on what they said. Friendly banter, for the most part. Nothing indicating that they were searching for Anders or himself. Travelers, it seemed, and he snuck away from the camp, back to the cave.

By the time he returned to the cave, the sky had started to lighten. He wasn't sure if it was because of how long he had been out, or how long he had slept and how long it had taken Anders to heal him. As soon as he stepped inside, the glow strengthened, and he saw Anders-- Justice-- quickly move out to greet him. In his left arm he had a bundle of food, his right arm hung at his side, and Justice froze in front of him, waiting.

“I brought food back, like I said I would. There appears to be no one nearby, but I cannot be certain. You may continue to stand there and wait for someone to come to kill us if you like, but I brought no one here. If I did, I would be conceding my life as well as yours,” Fenris said.

Justice was quiet a moment. “Anders'. Not mine. I will continue to live even if he dies.”

“Comforting,”

“That is sarcasm?”

“Yes.”

Justice stood still, watching as Fenris made his way back to the inlet he had claimed. Fenris set the food down, and started to work his armor off. Justice's posture was always strange to him. Stiff, rigid, incredibly contrary to the posture Anders typically took. He leaned back, resting against the wall again. He considered finding something to make resting here more comfortable, but he wasn't sure if it would be entirely worth it if they did not stay here long. He did need to go out again to get firewood, but he would rather bring Anders for that. Carrying firewood back with his arm broken would be either incredibly tedious or incredibly painful, and he did not like either option.

Justice still stood, shifting his gaze from Fenris to the cave entrance.

“Stand all you like, but no one is coming. I do not think Anders will like waking up on his feet,” Fenris said. A few moments passed, and Justice moved back to Anders' place in the cave.

“You have changed much over the course of a year,” Justice said.

“As has much of Thedas.”

“I did not think mortals could change in their lifetime, let alone the span of a year.”

“Some refuse change. Some allow change. Those that completely refuse it usually end up dead, as I suppose you have seen.”

“Like templars.”

“Yes.”

“Anders has always liked you.”

The statement was startling to Fenris. He had never expected Anders would like him, and the change in topic was sudden, and rather strange, but he supposed de-- _spirits, there is a difference,_ he scolded himself-- were not the best with conversation.

“I am beginning to like you as well,” Oh. Maybe not such a strange change.

“Allow the mage peaceful rest. I need his aid when he awakes,” Fenris said.

“Maybe not so much. You only want Anders rested for his ability to--”

“Firewood. Water. More food. I am injured. Gathering things on my own is difficult,” Fenris cut in, not liking the assumption Justice was making.

“I apologize. I shall speak more with you later.”

The glow subsided. Fenris sighed. Talking with the spirit was a challenge. There was little way of discerning emotions aside from anger from him. He shifted in his inlet to watch the entrance of the cave, seeing the way the sun painted the sky as he waited for Anders to wake up.


	5. Chapter 5

Fenris had gone out again before Anders awoke. Before he left he had approached Anders, gently placing two fingers on his neck and having his wrist grabbed so hard he felt the bones shift.

“So you do intend to betray him,” Justice growled.

“I was checking to see if he was still alive is all,” Fenris said through his teeth. Despite the pain he did not try to fight against Justice. They locked eyes and after a moment Justice released him.

“You could ask.”

“I did not wish to wake him and I was unsure if you would hear me,” Justice gave no reply to that, and Fenris left to find more food.

While he was out, Fenris tracked a few of the less dangerous animals in the area. A couple of rams of some sort, he wasn't sure the exact breed from the area, but that didn't matter. Something that would be easy to track, decent to eat. He considered trying to hunt one or two on his own, but decided against it. He didn't need to crawl back to the mage with more wounds from just a ram. And it wasn't the threat of physical injury that changed his mind-- just the threat of injuring his pride.

The sun was just starting its descent by the time Fenris returned. The temperature difference between inside and outside of the cave was staggering and Fenris shivered. He considered sitting outside, but the point of the cave was to hide. He took enough of a risk going out in the sunlight, although he hadn't seen anyone from the camps the night before, that didn't mean he hadn't been spotted.

It was several hours later, when the sun had started to set, that Fenris heard Anders stir. He had spent the day pacing, shuffling around, working on cleaning his armor and sword, anything to keep himself mildly busy while he waited around. Anders had started to shift around, mumble in his sleep, for the past few hours and each time he had heard something he had focused his attention on Anders. Fenris made a point to stay on the opposite side of the cave. He didn't want to threaten either the mage when he awoke or anger Justice again. So he paced around his half of the cave and waited. When Anders started to stir Fenris glanced over, but did not expect much by this point.

Anders groaned and worked his way to his feet. Sleeping on stone wasn't the best, and apparently he hadn't shifted much in his sleep. His legs were numb, and he wobbled as he tried to stand, bracing himself against the wall with his hand. He frowned at his legs. They were going to hurt in a bit and standing was going to be miserable, but it was better than sitting on the floor still. The stone had at least numbed some of his aches, but he knew it was only temporary with the stiffness in his muscles.

“So you finally awake. I worried you might not,” Fenris said. Anders shot his gaze up at him. He had forgotten he was sharing this space.

“I figured you would worry that I would wake up,” Anders said. Fenris didn't continue the banter, instead offering some of the food he had gathered to Anders.

“You need to eat,” he said. Anders gave the plants a wary look. His legs started to burn and he shifted more of his weight to his arm. Anders groaned and took some of it from Fenris, taking a small, hesitant bite. None of it seemed to be poison, and poison didn't seem to be Fenris' style. He was more the hands on type. Or rather, hands _in_.

“I will need your aid to gather firewood. Unless you wish to freeze tonight,” Fenris said.

“I'm surprised your pride lets you ask me such a favor.”

“It is my pride that makes me ask. I could be stubborn and insist on doing it alone, but if something was to happen to me on as mundane a task as gathering firewood because I must put so much effort into it, you would not let me live that down,” Fenris said. Anders snorted.

“I wouldn't, you're right.”

“Stop talking and eat.”

“I assumed I would wake up and have you insist on healing you right away.”

“Eat.”

Anders rolled his eyes and slowly started to eat. The food awoke his hunger but he forced himself to eat slowly and only took a small amount. Even if he wanted more, Fenris took the rest and stored it on his side of the cave. The taste of the food was almost overwhelming, it had been far too long since he had last eaten.

“You're even feeding me. What happened to the Fenris who hated me?” Anders asked.

“I have mentioned already. It has been a year. Things change. You caused a dramatic amount of change as well,” Fenris said.

“You didn't say that,” Anders objected.

“I did, last… My apologies. That was not to you,” Fenris said. Anders tried to take a step toward Fenris, to seem threatening, but he stumbled instead and Fenris caught him.

“Then who was it to?!” Anders snapped, jerking out of Fenris's grasp, nearly knocking himself over again.

“Justice,” Fenris said, his voice stern.

“Oh. That would explain the confusion.”

“Will you be able to walk?”

“Yes. Legs are just a little numb. Once they're not numb they'll be fine.”

“Then we will leave whenever that is,” Fenris said.

\---

It wasn't long before they headed out. Anders trailed a few steps behind Fenris, watching him. Something didn't feel right. Was this some sort of trap? Fenris was being far too pleasant for his taste. He wanted to hear more, hear why. But Fenris was guarding that. A trap? Or just his pride? Anders had never hated Fenris. Fenris had pushed his buttons, stepped on his toes and rubbed him the wrong way, but he had never hated him. And he had long since given up on the possibility of a friendship between the two of them, now Fenris was changing that. He didn't dare hope for much more past an agreement to not harm one another while they were down like this. They both needed help, and it happened that they found one another, that was it. Once he finished healing Fenris it would be over.

“I spotted some downed trees earlier. It is a bit of a walk, however. Do you think you will be able to carry it?” Fenris asked.

“I'll be fine. Still a warden. Still coupled with a spirit,” Anders said.

“You look like a walking skeleton. Forgive me for worrying that even some logs might snap you in half,” Fenris said. Banter was good. It meant he wasn't a demon, and it was comfortable. Familiar. Anders wasn't sure if he should ask what changed Fenris' attitude toward him. He didn't want to be met with the way Fenris had treated him in the past, and not asking meant he could pretend that Fenris had a real change of heart, and that this wasn't just some sort of need-based agreement.

“And yet you need this skeleton to be your arms,” Anders said.

“And to keep lookout while I work at breaking the wood into a size that's easier to be carried.”

“Do you think we could get something to pad the floor with? Sleeping on the stone hurts,” Anders said, overdoing the whine in his voice.

“Later. Firewood first. There are many things I need your aid with.”

“Many things, huh?” Anders teased. He immediately regretted it. That sounded far too much like flirting and he really hoped--

“If you attempted something like that you would die of exhaustion. Do not make offers you cannot keep up on,” Fenris said. Was that… was he _smirking_? It was a tiny flash there but he was smirking. Even if he wasn't, Anders made up his mind, he had been smirking. That could have gone much worse.

“Hold on, hold on. I'm a _warden_. Do you know what that means? I have a lot more stamina than you seem to think,” Anders said.

“Fine then. I would break you by mistake before you got terribly far,” Fenris said.

“Alright. I can't argue that point, so I _guess_ I concede that point to you,” Anders said. The realization that he had just given a not so discreet comment on how he performed to Fenris, of all people, hit him a few moments later and his face reddened considerably. The silence that followed made him uncomfortable, but Fenris did not seem to mind it.

“Here. Keep an eye out for any sort of threat if you would,” Fenris said. He hadn't been joking when he had said downed trees-- there were several of them, all broken around the same point of the trunk. Anders couldn't even begin to count the number of rings, and that was not where his focus needed to be. Fenris climbed on top of the trunk and moved toward the branches, getting through the trunk would take far too long, and drew a blade from his belt. It was larger than a knife, smaller than his typical sword. He grasped the branch with his right hand, seeing if he could try to stabilize the branch, or if it would cause him too much pain. It seemed to hold, and he started to work at it. It was slow going, but he only needed to start a cut. He could snap it with his left hand, or with his feet.

Anders watched, noting small creatures, rabbits and birds, mostly, and tried to figure out why the trees bothered him so much. It hadn't been lightning that had struck, it wouldn't have hit this many trees and it would have most likely started a fire. It couldn't have been a storm, that would have taken things at the base, not in the middle of a solid trunk. It had to be a creature of some sort. His mind felt slow and sluggish, he should be able to know what had done this. Fenris had probably already figured it out, but asking him would mean a hit to his own pride. Not a dragon. Dragon wouldn't have left, dragon would have taken more out. Seemed too much for bears. He glanced back at the trees. Cut wasn't even, most likely not a human cause.

_CRRACK!_ Anders jumped at the sound. _THUD!_ Anders glanced toward the sound. Fenris had gotten through one of the branches already. Quite the lookout he was, jumping at a sound he should have expected. Fenris climbed further up the trunk to work at another branch. Justice was nagging in the back of his head. A mix of emotions, something he was well used to ignoring. A better way of communication would be wonderful, something he would need to focus on later. Now, danger scanning. Idle wondering on what felled the trees wasn't helping here either.

An echoing _THUD!_ Caught his attention. Something in the distance. Anders quickly turned his attention toward it. Trees were too thick to see whatever caused it. He drew his staff, Justice a low hum, further forward in his mind. He heard a softer thud behind him and he glanced back. Fenris dropped out of sight. They listened in silence to the slow, heavy _THUD!_ s that pounded in the distance. They drew slightly closer, but headed away from them. Giants. That would explain the trees. Anders was kicking himself for not thinking of that sooner.

Fenris moved back to his perch before the footsteps faded away, hacking away at the branch. He was getting exhausted and didn't want to burn through too much of his energy before they headed back. A couple of good sized logs at least. Wouldn't burn long, but it would take the edge off the night's chill.

_CRRACK! THUD!_ Fenris wiped his brow and slid off of the tree. They could come back here later at least, no shortage of drying wood here. 

“That's all for now. We can return later for more,” Fenris said. Anders went to grab the branches.

“Only two? I can carry more than this,” Anders said.

“I do not wish to waste all of my energy snapping these branches one handed,” Fenris said.

“Is that… Is that honesty? No sarcastic jabs? You realize you're not dying, right? And I'm not either,” Anders insisted. Fenris didn't answer. Anders picked up the logs, suddenly feeling he had overstepped a boundary he hadn't seen. They headed back to the cave in silence, the chill of the early morning settling into their bones.


End file.
